


one shot (and I'm a little drunk on you)

by fathomless



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fluff, Secret Relationship, beer pong
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-17
Updated: 2019-03-17
Packaged: 2019-11-19 16:07:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18137945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fathomless/pseuds/fathomless
Summary: “Fine,” she relented, lips quirking up into a smile as she tilted her head at him, “but you owe me. I’m not about to humiliate myself just for fun.”“Nah,” he disagreed, pulling her in the direction of the dining room. Her eyes scoured the area for Raven, but she was nowhere to be seen- probably off talking with Monty or Jasper- and Clarke shrugged it off. “The fun’s just an added bonus,” Bellamy continued, eyes glinting in the light as he grinned at her over his shoulder. She silently cursed her stomach for the fluttering it did in response.— Clarke, Bellamy, and a game of beer pong most definitely inspired by Bob and Eliza being super adorable this weekend.





	one shot (and I'm a little drunk on you)

It wasn’t that Clarke didn’t _like_ parties, per say.

She simply felt there were more useful things she could be contributing her time to, more comfort in staying beneath her covers, a textbook in her lap which needed to be read in-depth before her med-surg exam Monday afternoon. But despite her plans being centered around the fact, stress eating away at her from the inside out, she still somehow found herself in the midst of sweaty bodies that smelled too heavily of cheap beer and hard liquor, music swirling- uncomfortably loud- through the air.

As usual, she was listening to Raven ramble on about some guy she’d met in one of her classes, an engineering major with enough brains to rival her own, and though she wrinkled her nose and downed another drink from the cup in hand each time Clarke teased her about having a crush, Clarke knew her well enough to know otherwise.

“I’m not you, okay?” Raven smirked, nudging her playfully.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It _means_ that if I had a crush, I would at least act on it, not dance around the guy for three years with nothing to show for it.” She shrugged, frowning as she brought the cup to her lips, only to realize it was empty. Clarke could feel herself flush in response and looked away before the other girl could notice, fingers moving to brush a piece of hair behind her ear.

“Yeah, well, he’s not exactly making any moves either.”

It wasn’t true, technically.

Bellamy had made his move over a month ago, fidgeting hands and nervous stutters she couldn’t help but find adorable. Naturally, she said yes, and when he left her apartment that night, it was all too easy to lean up, a hand rested lightly against his cheek, tracing against the stubble there as she kissed him goodnight. And though the shift from close friends to being in a relationship was almost seamless, they elected to keep it a secret, deciding not to take any chances. Their friends were… overbearing, to say the least, and despite how much she wanted to shout her love for him from the rooftops- to let everyone know he loved her, too- she wanted to make sure things would last before doing so.

“I’m _so_ tired,” Raven groaned, looking to the ceiling. “The two of you drive me fucking insane.” Then, with a pout, “I need more alcohol,” she muttered, turning away, presumably in search of the bottle she’d previously left on the counter across the room.

“Drama queen,” Clarke mumbled, shaking her head.

She was in conversation with a girl she vaguely recognized from her physiology class a few semesters back when a hand at her shoulder caused her to jump, heart doing the same as she turned to see who it was.

“Bellamy,” she breathed, her hand reaching for his out of habit.

“Where’d you run off to?”

“Raven,” she provided, feeling as though it was enough of an explanation on its own.

“What do you say about you, me,” his fingers ran across the back of her hand only momentarily before he dropped it, leaving chills in his wake. She swallowed. “and a game of beer pong against Murphy and Emori?”

“Definitely not where I was expecting that sentence to go,” she deadpanned. He huffed a laugh, hand settling at her waist, tracing against a sliver of skin exposed by her shirt riding up. It was close enough to their own version of platonic that no one would question it, but she could still tell the difference — a renewed confidence to his touch, the way the tips of his fingers traced ever so slightly against the waistband of her jeans.

“It can go there, too,” he said, only loud enough for her to hear. “But only after I kick Murphy’s ass.”

“Nice to know you have your priorities straight,” she smiled, patting his arm. “You know I suck at beer pong, though. Sorry, Bell.”

“Clarke,” he said. “You’ve only played once. You never know, you might be good this time.” His shoulders shrugged as he smiled at her innocently, and the groan she released into her cup was from a mixture of both annoyance and defeat.

“Bellamy…”

He lowered his voice. “C’mon, babe. I’ll even help you out if you need me to,” and if she hadn’t made her decision already, his words then would’ve been her deciding factor.

“Fine,” she relented, lips quirking up into a smile as she tilted her head at him, “but you owe me. I’m not about to humiliate myself just for fun.”

“Nah,” he disagreed, pulling her in the direction of the dining room. Her eyes scoured the area for Raven, but she was nowhere to be seen- probably off talking with Monty or Jasper- and Clarke shrugged it off. “The fun’s just an added bonus,” Bellamy continued, eyes glinting in the light as he grinned at her over his shoulder.

She silently cursed her stomach for the fluttering it did in response.

A crowd had already gather by the time the two of them made it over to the rickety old table they were using for the game and, naturally, Murphy began talking shit right away.

“Should’ve known Blake ran off to grab his partner in crime.”

“Hey,” Bellamy started, pointing a finger, “you have yours, too.”

Clarke rolled her eyes, stifling a laugh against the rim of her cup as they continued to go in circles, Murphy confident he and Emori would win the game. Clarke waved over at the other girl, who smiled in return — she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t still slightly terrified by her, for some reason she hadn’t entirely been able to pin down. Bellamy stood beside her, heat radiating off of him in waves, and she longed to be able to stand closer to him, to hold his hand and lean her head against his shoulder.

Less than ten minutes into the game and the two of them were already losing by an almost embarrassing amount. There was a crease in Bellamy’s brow at each missed shot that she yearned to reach out and smooth away with the pad of her thumb, a press of her lips against his forehead. (He’d always been a bit of a sore loser, not that she was much better). Instead, she settled for rubbing a hand against his back until it was her turn again.

“Okay,” she watched as he rubbed the ping pong ball between his hands before reaching out to give it to her. “Your turn. If you don’t make it, it’s okay, but I’ll be a very happy man if you do.”

“I can’t make any promises.”

“Just try your best,” he encouraged, and she took the ball from his hand, fingers lingering against his an instant longer than necessary. In the back of her mind, she could hear Murphy complaining about how long they were taking, but she ignored it.

She clasped the ball, arm bent as she aimed for one of the cups in the front. So far, humiliatingly enough, she’d yet to make a single shot, and she wasn’t counting on doing so this time, either. Bellamy placed a hand on her shoulder, stepping closer to her as his whisper of, “Nice and steady,” reached her ears above the music rushing through the nearby speakers.

When she finally let the ball go, allowing it to fly across the table, she didn’t expect it to come anywhere close to one of the cups, let alone make it in, and was overjoyed, letting out a surprised shriek of laughter at the sight, the group around them beginning to cheer. Bellamy’s hands settling on her shoulders, the, “Fuck yeah,” she heard directed across the table at their opponents were enough to make her cheeks ache from smiling, and without a second thought, she turned in his arms, leaning up to press her lips to his.

He froze in response, only moving to kiss her back, arms wrapping around her waist as she was about to pull away.

“Sorry,” she murmured against his lips, ignoring the whispers surrounding them. _She wasn’t, though, not really._ “I got a little too excited, I guess.”

“Yeah,” he whispered, voice bathed in something akin to awe. “Get excited like that more often.”

When they inevitably lost the game, too distracted by one another to focus- although she bet they would’ve lost, regardless- she grasped his hand in hers as they walked in the direction of his apartment, clinging tightly to her jacket as she whispered, “Sorry you lost.”

He was quiet for a moment before pulling her close, and with a kiss to her temple, his arm wrapped around her shoulder, he muttered, “If anything, I won,” and she couldn’t help but tuck herself further into his side, quietly agreeing with the sentiment.

**Author's Note:**

> yeah so this was short as hell but hope it was enjoyable <3 couldn't get the scenario out of my head after all of the videos of bob and eliza playing beer pong from the other night. 
> 
> also catch me making clarke a nursing major in every college au i'll ever write probably


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